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OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

Eamonn Monson SAC

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Showing posts from February, 2019

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THE MAN WHO ROBS YOU: Crucifix Taken and Retrieved

on February 24, 2019

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RAFORD: A Place of Grace

on February 21, 2019

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THE HOLY BATH: A Rite of Passage

on February 20, 2019

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A RIVER IN THE DRY SEASON: Remembering Shirley, Twenty Years On

on February 12, 2019

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Come Take My Hands

on February 11, 2019

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The Solitary Life of a Single Woman

on February 01, 2019

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Popular Posts

You Are Weeping Now

Broken body resting
On my lap hidden
Image of the unseen
God in finite form frail

God knows how to live
And how not to be
Able to keep going
To birth's beginnings
The end of expectancy

Eternal is the space
Beyond end and beginning
The place of this child's
Belonging forever loved
By God ever before
World and Womb were made

"So it is with you: you are sad now, but I shall see you again, and your hearts will be full of joy, and that joy no one shall take from you." (John 16)

INSOMNIA: They Who Fly Home To God

"Insomnia can become a form of contemplation. You just lie there, inert, helpless, alone, in the dark, and let yourself be crushed by the inscrutable tyranny of time. The plank bed becomes an altar and you lie there without trying to understand any longer in what sense you can be called a sacrifice." (Thomas Merton, The Sign of Jonas)

Insomnia! A brand of coffee and a state of being! Being awake when you should be asleep. It's been part of my whole life since childhood, though it's less of an affliction now. Most religious people seem to resort to formal prayer like the rosary to help them through the dark hours. Not me! I just groan - "oh God!"

One such night many years ago my distress was so great that I sat up, took hold of my Bible and asked God to speak to me. What opened before me was Ezekiel Chapter 13, and I was particularly struck by verse 10: "...they have misled my people by saying Peace! when there is no peace."
My inclination is toward…

Twenty Years After Maura

Up till then I never loved anyone as much as I loved my older sister Maura and then I wondered had it been a mistake to love so much. The pain of her absence was unbearable, and I honestly thought I wouldn’t survive. I thought too that I would never dance again. It was with her that I danced best, most joyfully. But I have survived and have loved again. I have danced, but never so joyfully as with her.
The morning of July 28, 1999 I was in London on my way home from holidays. There was a message to phone my sister Rose. There was no answer. So, I phoned Maura. Her youngest son answered. I said, “can I speak to your Mum.” He said, “she’s dead!” She went to bed at the age of 46 and never woke up. That was the beginning of my worst nightmare. I didn’t just cry. I howled. Those who were with me then still speak of the sound of my grieving. The experience left us all reeling as a family, fragmented and nearly destroyed.
She was my best friend, my sister and the link that held us…

By Pelham Beach: I Think As I Pray

A beautiful Friday afternoon. Walking the sea front by Pelham Beach in the direction of the Bathing Hut Café which never seems to be open and is exactly three miles from my door. It’s a walk I do every other day, mostly in the evening. Six miles in total and it’s really good for my head.
I pray as I go and think as I pray and often just let my eyes and my mind float, taking in what’s there. The beauty of everything. Every one.
September 28th. I remember it’s exactly a year ago since I was inducted as Parish Priest of St. Mary Star of the Sea. 28 is a significant number – January and July. I was 28 years old the last time I became a Parish Priest in Galapo, Tanzania.

I don’t know how to assess the last year, to know whether I’m doing well or not. There’s always a bit of a shadow lurking to suggest I will never really get it right, that I never have in fact gotten it right. The shadow suggests that my mistakes - past and present - are bigger than they actually are.
The devil is an accuser. …

SLOWING TO THE PACE OF A POND

Slowing to the pace of a pond, time away from mowing machines, a breeze too cool for June, a warm suntrap carved into the rhododendron bush, birdsong, rushes rustling and water lilies perfectly still. This is Ashburnham! There is no need for strain, no need to make more or less of this space in time. No need! I am in the Presence of God and His wonderful creation of which I am a part and yet apart, outstanding in dignity without any boast. This is really lovely, a welcome respite from being tired and out of breath. 40 minutes of peace, one with God, with nature and with myself.
I began to ponder the readings for the feast of the Holy Trinity and I conclude again that I am unable to explain or define God. He is to be discovered by those who seek the Truth (John 16:12-15) and I urge anyone who is tempted to stop believing - I ask them at least to seek the Truth, to hold on to and protect that special inner feeling that they have for Jesus, particularly teenagers many of whom feel oblig…

RETIREMENT?

It's a long enough journey home - 10 hours from house to house - but there's no complaint except a weary body which is not a complaint. Just a fact of nature. There's a great amount of pleasure in the whole process - the train, the airport with an americano stretched out to last an hour so that I can charge my phone, a delayed but lovely flight and running in the rain to catch the 19.45 GoBus with only minutes to spare. And there I listened to all 10 episodes of Vesna Goldsworthy's 'Gorsky' on BBC Radio 4, so beautifully read by Philip Arditti. A voice that has soothed me to sleep some nights. It brought me to within 10 miles of Galway.
I'm home for my brother's retirement as head teacher. He's seven years younger than me, so it's natural that I might taunt myself with the question, "what about me?" A taunt and a temptation. I’m naturally and essentially a very lazy person attracted by idle thoughts of spending my life dreaming, writin…

BOOKENDS: My Induction As Parish Priest of Hastings - Eamonn Monson sac

I’m wearing vestments that were made for my predecessor Fr. Seamus who was a much, much bigger man than me by a long shot, so there’s no way I can fill them as he did. There is no way that I can fill the space occupied by him when he was Parish Priest. But all the same the vestments fit me in a different kind of way. Something of Seamus remains here but things are not the same. His death brought an unexpected change and I have become part of that change. When I was his novice master I never dreamed that he would die before me, never thought that I would succeed him.
On the front and back of my chausible is the Pallottine seal with the motto "Caritas Christi Urget Nos" (The Love of Christ Urges us on). This seal is testament to our communal calling, the mission given to each of us personally and together as community.
The emotion of his passing is still strong! He is very much missed and was greatly loved here in Hastings. He touched people’s lives for the better. People tell …

Fathers Day 2019

My Dad and I had a particular kind of love that was born of years and years of family life, time spent together – bad and good times. We spent a lot of time together as family – moody morning breakfasts, hurried lunchtimes and long evenings that were often peaceful and sometimes filled with arguments. And in the era before television we spent our time by the fire talking. As little children, it was he who put us to bed saying as we walked up the stairs, “all together like Brown’s cows!”
He was gentle and silent and somewhat overlooked, still is overlooked in some ways because we have always paid more attention to our Mother. And he had his weaknesses that we came to know; I had my arguments and misunderstandings with him; we got over them again and again. And through it all there was an intimacy developing, a kind of knowing that cannot be spoken but is real and deep as the ocean. From the time I was thirteen years old I worked for the summer holidays in the factory where he worked. We…

FREEING THE PIGEON: A Pentecost First Communion

It's 7.30 the morning of Pentecost Sunday, the sun shines bright into my kitchen and there is a silence, the silence of seagulls that allows the other birds to be heard for a while. A beautiful, sweet sound that comes from the trees across the way.

My house has had a stale smell lately, so when I got up yesterday I opened all the windows wide to let fresh air in. A strong breeze blew from the outside, circulating vigorously within. I realized that, in the same moment, I was opening wide the windows of my soul, allowing the fresh air of the Holy Spirit to come and fill me, removing what has become stale in my heart and soul and mind.

In the afternoon a pigeon entered through the lower part of my bedroom window, stood there looking happy and curious until he spotted me. He went into a right flap, flying madly around the room, knocking, scattering what got in his way, clawing at the curtain, unable to get out the way he came in. So, I spoke kindly to him but I'm no St. Francis a…

REMEMBERING JULIA: 10 Years On

Got out of bed on Monday May 25, 2009. Pulled back the curtains. Looked out into the silent streets of Mervue and noticed that Evelyn Foy’s car wasn’t there. It’s the kind of thing neighbours notice. Her mother is in hospital so I sent her a text to see if everything was alright. Her brother Sean phoned me to say the family had been called to the hospital at 7.00am because Julia had had a bad night. I dressed fast and got there shortly after 8.30am, there being no traffic to speak of. The curtain was pulled around the bed, her four children gathered around her, boys on one side, girls on the other - Sean, Breege, Evelyn and Paugi. Julia’s head rested childlike against the side rail, protected by a folded brown blanket. When I had seen her the previous day she talked with clarity about my Mother and Maura who were both dead by then, Maura ten years earlier. How much she wanted to see them. Then something slipped in her mind and clarity left once again, as it does. We prayed. She participa…

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